Beyond Fallen Souls
by waiting-for-Iceland
Summary: During the 1940's, a young Cleo Bellos longs for freedom and hope in the mechanical, dull country of America. When she meets a handsome young stranger named Magnus Damora, she begins to believe that her life is changing. But then, the draft for World War 2 rocks her town, and she finds the world a more difficult and precious place than she ever imagined.


Disclaimer: I do not own Falling Kingdoms.

Chapter 1

"Do you think we should really be here, Cleo?" asked Emilia in a worried voice as I pulled her through the vast sea of eager couples waiting to go through the entrance to the park. "You know Father doesn't really like it when we go out, especially at this late hour."

I scoffed as I shoved my way through the crowd, inching closer and closer to the entrance. Raising my voice so Emilia could hear over the cacophony of voices around us, I replied with a smile, "You need to let loose every now and then, dear sister! Besides, we don't have to pay a dime to get in."

"And just how exactly did you manage to get us in?" questioned Emilia, and I just knew that my older sister had her disapproving scowl on. I flinched as Emilia said in a knowing tone, "Don't tell me it was because of that Lagaris boy that lives down the street."

"Well…" I replied, regretting just how sharp she really was. As I tried to push past a particularly large boy, Emilia yanked me back by the arm. My clear, blue eyes locked with her dark brown gaze, and I couldn't help but begin to whine. "Come on! It's supposed to be the biggest dance of the year! We already came all this way and we are almost at the entrance where Aron is waiting for us. Let's have some fun together, just for one night!"

Emilia frowned more as she looked at all of the people struggling to enter the park where the concert was being held. She sighed as she looked back at me. "Don't you know that there's a war going on?"

I cocked my head and furrowed my eyebrows together. What on earth did the war have to do with anything? "That doesn't affect us here! Please, Emilia? For me?"

Sighing once more, Emilia looked back at me as I radiated excitement. Emilia just had to agree to do this! We could never do anything anymore because of her increasing headaches. But as she looked at me, I could tell that her resolve began to break down, and she finally smiled at me. "Okay—"

"Yay!"

"But!" said Emilia, cutting off my premature cheers, "You have to promise me that you'll keep a safe distance from Aron and that you will be safe, okay?"

I stuck out my bottom lip in what Father always called my "Princess Pout." He said that I always did that when I was younger whenever I didn't agree with anything. "I'm a mature enough person to know who to hang out with, Emilia. Aron is a bit, well, free with his actions, but I can handle him! We've been friends for years, and he respects me."

"Just promise me?" Emilia said, exasperated.

"I promise," I replied in a more serious tone that faded almost immediately. Grabbing her hand, I began to push back through the crowd with renewed fervor. "We need to hurry! It's already 6:40, and I told him I'd be here early!"

Ever since the United States joined in the war against Germany and Japan, a profound sense of unsettlement and darkness had settled over the entire country, including the ever-exciting Metropolis where we lived. Even Aron, who is usually dismissive of politics, acted a tad more serious these days. But it was just a few days ago when I started feeling especially uncomfortable under all of the seriousness of the situation that Aron came over to our house to let me know about the concert that would be held in Mid Park on a Saturday night. Of course, I agreed to come immediately. Who wouldn't want to go dancing? Well, someone other than my sister.

As we continued to wade through the crowd, I sent a fleeting glance back at Emilia, making sure she looked okay. For the past few months, she had been complaining of unceasing migraines, and she stayed mostly inside nowadays. Her face was a tad pale as she maneuvered herself through the crowd, but she looked healthier than she had in a very long time.

Just as I was about to lose all hope of making it to the entrance, I caught sight of Aron's blond hair in the distance. He had his arms crossed, an irate expression on his face as he tapped his foot, probably waiting for me and Emilia.

I called out to him and raised my free hand up, waving it back and forth. "Aron!"

Jolting at the sound of his name, he spotted me through the crowd, and a sly smirk slid onto his face.

"Thought you'd never show up, Cleo," he said in a confident drawl. "I told you to get here at 6:00 so we could get in there before the gates opened at 6:50." His face dropped all excitement when he saw that my sister was behind me. Lifting an eyebrow, he fixed me with a pointed look. "I see you've brought your luggage with you."

Emilia widened her eyes at the scathing remark. "I beg your pardon?"

"H-he was just joking around with you!" I stammered, surprise and trepidation washing over me like a wave. If Aron treated her like this for the rest of the night, then I'd have to go home, and I just couldn't go home without living for once. "You know how he teases everyone, Emilia. Don't take it too hard." From the corner of my eye, I saw Aron narrow his eyes as he caught my attempt at apologizing for him.

My sister sighed and shook her head, her naturally pleasant expression back on her face. "It does not matter," she said, flicking her tightly curled blonde hair over her shoulder. "Let's just have fun tonight."

Smiling in reply, I looked back up to Aron, where I could see the annoyance in his eyes."Well, come on then, ladies. The dance floor awaits!" His unfriendly emotions disappeared as he grabbed my free hand and began to lead us through the dense crowd right up to the iron-barred gate. A police officer stood in front of the gate with an expression equally as strong and hard as the gate he guarded. He regarded us with disdain as we pushed up to him.

"Gates don't open 'til 6:50, kids," he said, his gruff, gravely voice perfectly fitting his imposing image.

"We have special privileges to get in early," said Aron in a tone that held an air of feigned superiority and prevalence.

The officer raised a thick eyebrow at Aron's assertiveness. "Look, kid, I don't make special exceptions for anyone. Now, wait right here with the rest of the crowd like a good boy."

"I don't think you should be speaking to me like that, Officer." The look in Aron's eyes suggested that the officer would regret not letting us in. "It just so happens that I am the son of the richest, most influential lawyer in this city. And I'm sure if something were to 'accidentally' happen to me or my friends," he said, smirking, "then you will be out on the streets trying to find a job to keep yourself from starving."

A low, wheezing chuckle rose from Aron's throat as the officer looked at him with horrified eyes. "A-apologies, Sir!" He stuttered, then turned to the gate and unlocked it, letting us pass through. "P-please have a good time!"

Aron just waved his hand as he pulled Emilia and I through, laughing at the sound of the indignant protests of the crowd as we walked through. "God blessed me more than any person on this earth," he mused, pulling me close to his side. "Not everyone can be as rich, influential, handsome, and well-connected as I am." I should have known that he would use his status as a Lagaris to get into this place early. He was a master of blackmail.

From beside me, I heard Emilia mutter something under her breath, probably something scathing and very un-Emilia like. She pulled on my hand, and I looked into her dark eyes. "I'm gonna go find a place to sit down before the rest of the crowd comes in. Heaven only knows how packed this place will be in a few minutes."

"Okay. I'm going to head to the dance floor for a while, so make sure you save a place for me!" I said as she walked off in the park to find some chairs. She waved her hand at me without looking back, and a pang of worry pulsed through me. Would she really be okay by herself?

But I couldn't worry about her too much as Aron jerked me closer to his side. "Come on, Cleo," he said in a husky voice as he looked down at me with an indefinable emotion in his eyes, "Let's get the best spot on the dance floor in front of the band." I nodded, and he began to lead me up to the massive stage in the middle of the park.

The cool, autumn breeze of September floated past me, rustling the colored leaves on the few trees in the center of the park. Multiple sidewalks branched off in different directions, some leading to an exquisite water fountain at the north end of the park, while some lead to a beautiful flower garden at the south. The stage always stayed at the center of the park throughout the year, but for the concert, a wide, wooden dance floor was in front of the stage, waiting for couples to twirl on it.

The way that Aron always intimidated others bothered me, but just for tonight, I was glad that we could get in early. We were the only people in the park, aside from the workers and band members. The skeptical, suspicious glances that they directed our way every few minutes made me play with the edge of my dress in nervousness. As I twiddled with the thin, cobalt fabric, I could not help but to thank the war for causing a shortage of fabric so women's dresses could be shorter. There was something much more flattering in wearing knee-length dresses rather than the conservative, mid-calf length dresses from the 30's. I thoroughly enjoyed the way the dresses accentuated my body, showing off the curves that I had.

"Have I told you that you look absolutely stunning tonight, my lady?" said Aron in a breathy whisper in my ear. "Because if not, then let me tell you that you look like a princess."

An inadvertent shiver ran down my spine from his close proximity and words, but it definitely wasn't because I fancied Aron at all. "Thank you," I replied in a stiff voice, trying to retain my happiness and composure. Whenever he whispered to me, my mind was always quick to remind me of that certain… mistake I had made long ago.

The shame of my actions seemed to follow me for months after the incident happened, and it wasn't until about two months ago when I was finally able to keep my mind off of it. Yet, whenever Aron touched me in any, close way, shivers racked my body and the blazing inferno of shame and humiliation ate through my very soul. How could I have been so immature? I should have known that I wasn't well, and I definitely should not have—

No.  
I would not think of that night right now.

If I dwelt on my mistakes anymore, then I couldn't enjoy this night that I had been waiting for for weeks. emThis /emwas my night to have fun, to feel free and unbelievably happy before the reality of the world crashed into me once more. emThis /emwould be the night that I would re-live over and over again for months.

Right then, the band began to play an upbeat, thrilling number that thrummed throughout my entire being, and I felt my body begin to bob along to the song. It didn't take long for the excited screams and laughs of the crowd to reach my ears as the gates opened to let the eager couples in.

I didn't focus on the mass amounts of people flooding to the dance floor, but rather on the melodious sounds of the instruments on stage: the soul-filling saxophone, heart-pounding trumpet, and bone-rattling bass. All around me, girls with blood-red lipstick and curled hair twirled in their dresses around me, and the euphoria of freedom and joy welled up inside of me. Then, Aron took my hand, and we began to move along with the rest of the couples in a dance.

-—

Stumbling away from the dance floor, I tried to catch my breath after dancing for what felt like hours, but in reality, was probably a half hour. A thin sheen of sweat covered my forehead, and my long, blonde hair had long since fallen out of its beautiful, tight curls from twirling and spinning. The dress that I was wearing was now sticking to my back, and I decided that I needed to take a break and find Emilia.

As I maneuvered my way toward the back of the dance floor, I kept an eye out for Aron, as well. He had disappeared after dancing for ten minutes, and I hadn't seen him since.

Even as I neared the edge of the floor, the crowd never thinned out, and I was struggling to push through the throng of people that seemed to stretch wider than the ocean. My ears rang from the intense noise of everything, and I couldn't wait to catch my breath away from everyone with Emilia.

That is, if I could find Emilia.

Finally, I broke through the wall of people into a more open area, but it was still pretty crowded. At least now, I could turn around freely to see if I could spot Emilia. Twirling the purple jeweled ring on my finger automatically, I small wave of anxiety rushed through my blood when I couldn't find Emilia at first. But I was so absorbed in locating her that I didn't hear the sound of someone approach me from behind.

"Lookin' for me, Cleo?" drawled a voice that sounded vaguely familiar.

Turning around slowly, I let out a sigh of relief when I realized it was just Aron. "Oh, hello, Aron," I replied, still twirling the ring on my finger. "I was actually looking for Emilia. You haven't happened to see her, have you?"

"Why're you worried 'bout her?" he said, a strange slur messing up his words. To my utter dismay and horror, I smelled the harsh tang of alcohol on his breath. "She's a big girl, 'nd she can take care of herself. Y' need to stop—*hic*—dragging her around with ya."

"How are you drunk?" I whispered loudly, rage flooding me. Darting my eyes to the people around me to make sure they wouldn't over hear me, I leaned toward him. "How in the world did you get alcohol?" Aron had almost been arrested multiple times for drinking under age, and if he were to be caught tonight, I don't think even his father could bail him out.

He shrugged halfheartedly, another hiccup escaping from his lips. He stumbled toward me and placed a heavy, sweaty hand on my shoulder, leaning toward me. "Doesn' really matter, but I can get ya some if ya want," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Fear and shame flashed through me briefly before he went on to say, "But I don't wanna do that righ' now. Come dance with me, Cleo."

Taking his hand off of my shoulder gingerly, I told him, "I need to find my sister." Anger boiled inside of me at how utterly stupid Aron was sometimes. Father had warned me multiple times of staying close with Aron, but I knew that if someone didn't at least try to keep him accountable, he would hurt himself or other people.

"Don't be like that," he whined. "Let's have some fun."

Holding my ground, I glared up at him. "I said no, and you need to sober yourself up before you get caught."

"Hey," he growled, anger flashing in his pale eyes. "Don't forget that I have more than enough evidence to bring you to jail with me. An' you wouldn't want Daddy to find out that his little princess is secretly a delinquent." I tried to back away from his harsh glare and foul breath, but with people everywhere, I couldn't move.

But Aron was starting to scare me.

"I-I just need to make sure Emilia is okay, and then I'll dance with you, alright?" I said, trying to keep my voice even. The last time Aron was drunk, really bad things had happened when I didn't agree with him. I still held the scars from that time, both the emotional and the physical.

He grabbed my arm and squeezed it roughly. "No. Now."

The fear dissipated into disgust and rage inside of me, and my stubborn side was beginning to surface. "Let go of me, Aron."

"Oh, Cleo… Dont'cha know that I always get what I want?" he replied, a sinister smile on his face. Some of the fear trickled into me again, but it was time to show him that I wasn't afraid of him. He was fueling a fire that he couldn't control.

"I'll tell you one more time to let go of me, Aron," I hissed through my teeth.

He scoffed at me. "What're ya gonna do if I don't? Tell Daddy that kids were being mean to you? It's time for you to grow up, Cleo and realized that you want this," he growled, suddenly pulling my body close to him where our faces almost touched, "that you want me."

Once the words were out of his mouth, I wrenched my arm out of his grip and flung my body away from his. Then, without prior meditation, I pulled my fist back and slammed it into his face as I turned back toward him. Unbelievable pain crackled through my hand, and I cradled it to my chest, hissing in pain. I smiled in satisfaction despite the pain in my hand.

"I told you to let go of me, Aron. That's what you get for not… listening…" I trailed off as I looked to the person that was currently on the ground, holding a hand to their face in pain. But this person was definitely _not_ Aron.

I threw myself to the ground beside the person, a man, and I touched his arm as horror and dismay rattled me. He groaned lowly as I tried to see how much damage I had dealt to him. "I am so, so, so incredibly sorry! I didn't mean to hit you, but I guess I missed, and—Oh, goodness! I am so sorry, and—"

"Shut up," he ground out through clenched teeth in a voice deeper than I ever imagined. Despite his angry tone, he allowed me to help him sit up, and I let out a gasp of fear when I saw the stream of blood that poured out of his nose that was most-likely broken.

"Someone get a nurse! A doctor! Anything!" I yelled to the crowd of people that had gathered to see what had happened. From the brief glances that I threw at the crowd, I saw that Aron had somehow slipped away, but I didn't care. This man in front of me probably had a broken nose because of me, and I needed to help him. Looking around, I asked, "Does someone have a handkerchief or a napkin that I can use?"

As I waited for someone to bring me what I needed, I looked back to the person in front of me, and my breath hitched in my throat.

Despite the dark blood running down his face, he was, perhaps the most stunning man—boy— I had ever seen. Hair the color of midnight touched the tops of his ears, shining brilliantly in the light of the setting sun. His jaw was prominent in his face, and his eyes… His brilliant brown eyes danced with the rays of sunlight. In the depths of his eyes, I found anger, frustration, pain, longing, and loneliness hidden in his gaze, and I found that I couldn't look away from him.

"I'd really appreciate it if you stayed away from my face," he suddenly said, his voice rumbling in my ears. Shaking myself from my trance-like state, I leaned away from him.

"S-sorry about that," I said, stuttering a bit in embarrassment. By that time, someone thrust a handkerchief in my face and I grabbed it from them. Looking back towards the boy, who couldn't have been more than two years older than me, I leaned closer to his face again. "Okay, I need you to lean your head forward to where you are looking toward the ground."

He looked at me with disdain and skepticism, and I would've been a bit more intimidated if he wasn't currently holding his hand in front of his nose. "If you think that I'm just gonna trust you after you punched me, you must be barking mad."

I mentally agreed with him, but I did want to help him. But if he was going to act stubborn, then so was I. "You can either let me help you, or you can sit here in pain as your nose continues to bleed and you will eventually pass out. It's your choice."

His gaze suddenly locked with mine, and we had a silent, mental battle as to whose resolve was strongest. And unsurprising to me, he dropped his gaze first and leaned forward, removing his hand from his face. Bringing the handkerchief up to his nose, I held it there in place while we waited for medical assistance. Learning from my previous mistake, I averted my eyes to his body rather than on his handsome face.

To my dismay, a bit of blood had gotten on the tops of his pristine, white shirt and black tie. His pants were made of a rough, dark navy material, and were held up by wide-strapped, navy suspenders. From his golden cufflinks and wing-tipped shoes, I inferred that he came from a rich family, just like almost everyone living in Metropolis.

By then, people had begun to walk away after the initial rush of adrenaline had faded, and the music had captured their attention once more. After a few minutes, only the boy and I remained on the ground.

We must have made a funny sight: a broad-shouldered, defined boy sitting on the ground with his head facing the ground while a blonde-haired, sixteen year old girl held a bloody handkerchief to his face.

"What are you laughing at?" he growled suddenly.

It was only then that I realized I had been chuckling at my inner musings aloud, and my face flushed in embarrassment. But I couldn't stop the smile from growing back on my face as I answered him. "I was just laughing at how we must look to other people. If you think about it, this is quite the comical situation."

"Yes, I am practically breathless from laughter," he replied, voice monotoned and devoid of any humor whatsoever. I rose an eyebrow at his dripping sarcasm. "Forgive me if I do not see the humor in this situation. After all, you are in perfectly good health while I must sit here on the ground with a possible broken nose all because I tried to help someone for once in my life. Everyone always finds entertainment from the pain of others. It's sickening."

"Excuse me?" I said, flabbergasted at his words. "I had everything under control. I didn't ask you to come and help me."

"So if you saw a person being harassed, you wouldn't help them at all? You would just pass them by because you assume the one being harassed has 'everything under control?'" He waited for my reply, but I couldn't come up with one. Somehow, in the few minutes that we had been together, he had managed to silence me. Not just anyone could do that.

After a few minutes of a tense, charged silence, I took the handkerchief away from his face. My shoulders slumped in relief when I saw that his nose was no longer bleeding, but something else caught me entirely off-guard that I could not help but gasp slightly:

On the right side of his face, a long, thin scar stretched from the tip of his ear to the corner of his mouth.

To my surprise, and I was able to compose myself before he looked into my eyes. He was even more handsome now that I could see his whole face, but my stomach turned a bit at the sight of the scar and the dried blood on his face. Standing up, I reached my hand down toward him so I could pull him up.

"My name is Cleo Bellos," I said as I waited for him to take my hand, "and I am truly sorry for the pain that I have caused you tonight."

His brown eyes regarded my hand, and for a second, I believed that he wouldn't take it. Then, he placed his large, calloused hand in mine, and he pulled himself up. "Magnus Damora. And I sincerely hope that you go find that _boy_ from earlier," he spat, "and break his nose too."

I couldn't help the smile that graced my lips as I stared up at his face. "If he tries to come near me again, he'll end up with way more than a broken nose. Trust me."

Much to my surprise, he smirked at what I said. "I would be a fool not to believe that."

Clearing my throat, I grimaced when I saw that I was still holding onto the handkerchief that was drenched with his blood. But just as I was about to pass it off to him, he stuck his hands in his pants pockets and smirked at me once more.

"Since you never thanked me for helping you, you can keep that as a reminder to be more grateful of when people help you in the future," he said, a twinge of confident humor lacing his deep voice. Just as I was about to protest, he turned around and began to walk away. Over his shoulder, he said, "Until the next time, Cleo Bellos."

Before I could reply, he was swallowed up into the ocean of people, and I was alone with myself, my thoughts, and a bloody handkerchief. The smooth sound of music flowed unhindered through my ears once more, and I smiled at the events that had just happened.

Magnus Damora. Something inside of me told me that I would see him again very soon.

This would definitely be a night that I would never forget.


End file.
